Withering

One hazel moon 
of November. I was thinking 
of an iceberg. 

* 

The seared 
shoots of grass. The path 
covered by autumn leaves. 

* 

A weeping willow 
lays down the branches 
to embrace the river.

Reviews

[Rachel]

The last stanza was my favorite, but I really enjoyed the set-up for it with the first two stanzas! This is a really beautiful poem.